


Obsessed with your yesterday (you're destined to repeat it)

by Amber_Flicker



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, The Rathaways' A+ Parenting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, implied depression, the rathaways need to BURN, what do you expect from me that's all I write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Flicker/pseuds/Amber_Flicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a year, Hartley Rathaway calls his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsessed with your yesterday (you're destined to repeat it)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sorry About Your Parents by Icon For Hire

Hartley doesn't expect much from people anymore. He certainly doesn't expect his parents to ever speak to him again. It wouldn't be logical to hope for such things.

But then, why does he continue this? Simply because it's routine, tradition? Or is that he still, beyond it all, does hope they'll answer?

Subconsciously, he's aware that this is nothing but damaging to his mental health- which is already wrecked, but things can always get worse, something he's learned the hard way. And yet. He does it over and over. The very definition of insanity, he thinks. But that's a dangerous road for his mind to travel down, and he pushes the thought away.

 

Once a year, Hartley Rathaway calls his parents.

 

That day is his birthday. June 22. As if to remind them that _yes, hello, I was born today. you were both there, you can't deny it. I EXIST_

He dials the number, contemplates _procrastinates_ for five more minutes, and then he presses call. It rings once, twice, three times, four- and it stops. No one picks up, just like always. As he knew it would be. It's a pointless ritual he puts himself through each year. He puts down the phone (if he was the type to do such things, he'd throw it, but that's simply not how he expressed anger and grief) and lays down. It's dark by now. He doesn't bother turning on the light. Even if there's no one there to see him anyway- why would there be, he has no friends- he would rather let go and break down like this, hidden. Even if that wouldn't make it any less real. 

 

The dark fit his state of mind better anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea a couple days ago and then I found out today is Hartley's birthday, so everything worked out really well? 
> 
> It's been a while since I've written anything in present tense, but it seemed to work best for the story.
> 
> Say hello at http://cliches-and-coffee.tumblr.com/


End file.
